Life

Jake O'Kane: What do you mean you don't know him? You know him surely...

Whenever I'd visit, my backside wouldn't hit the seat before Granny would invariably ask, 'Do you know (insert any name)?' I'd reply, 'No, I don't', to which, annoyed at my stupidity, she'd reply, 'You know him surely'

Jake O'Kane

Jake O'Kane

Jake is a comic, columnist and contrarian.

Think of it, in just six people, a line can be drawn between you and the president of the United States. Picture by Evan Vucci/AP
Think of it, in just six people, a line can be drawn between you and the president of the United States. Picture by Evan Vucci/AP Think of it, in just six people, a line can be drawn between you and the president of the United States. Picture by Evan Vucci/AP

THERE'S a well-known theory called 'six degrees of separation'. It states that any two people on Earth can be connected via six other people.

As an example, just six people could separate you from the president of the United States. You might know someone called Joe, who spent a summer working in the US at a holiday camp and who dated a local girl called Joan. Joan later married a man named Jeff who'd a brother called Mike, who was a police officer in New York. Mike's best friend was another cop called Omar, who was best man at the wedding of Keith Schiller, who worked as Donald Trump's personal bodyguard. Therefore, in just six people, a line can be drawn between you and the president.

Personally, I've always believed that the number could be halved in Ireland. If you don't know someone, either your mammy or granny will. Not only will they know the person, but they'll also know their whole family, and probably even a bit of salacious gossip about them.

What I write next may not ring true for my cosmopolitan readers, but it most definitely will for my rural ones. My Granny Tillie lived into her late 90s, with her faculties becoming ever more acute with age. Whenever I'd visit, my backside wouldn't hit the seat before Granny would invariably ask, "Do you know (insert any name)?" I'd reply, "No, I don't", to which, annoyed at my stupidity, she'd reply, "You know him surely. Sure isn't he your own uncle's aunt's cousin's brother's son's wife's nephew."

"I still don't know him," I'd argue, causing Granny to up the ante. "Awk, don't be stupid. You know him surely. Sure isn't he your own grandfather's brother's nephew's cousin's aunt's brother's son who went to Rome to be a priest and came back married to a nun."

Knowing from experience that this could go on for hours; eventually, I'd lie, "Oh him. Aye, I know him; what about him?" To which Granny invariably replied, "He's dead."

Jake O'Kane – the 'six' in 'six degrees of separation' could be halved in Ireland. Picture by Mal McCann
Jake O'Kane – the 'six' in 'six degrees of separation' could be halved in Ireland. Picture by Mal McCann Jake O'Kane – the 'six' in 'six degrees of separation' could be halved in Ireland. Picture by Mal McCann

Our sense of interconnectivity and community is preserved via memory – not computer memory, human memory that can stretch into the distant past.

Proof of this came during the week when those who set up a Go Fund Me page to help the Navajo and Hopi American Indians deal with the Covid-19 pandemic noticed a slew of donations from Ireland. Initially, they were baffled; what possible connection was there between indigenous Americans and Ireland?

Messages from Irish donors such as 'You supported us in 1847, we support you now' threw light on the connection. This comment relates back to the Great Hunger in Ireland when a million people died, with the same number emigrating due to starvation. Reading at the time of Ireland's suffering, members of the Choctaw tribe felt compelled to try and help, and although poor themselves, managed to send $170 in aid, their empathy stemming from the fact only years earlier they'd also lost thousands to hunger when the US government forced them from their lands. Then marched them to government holding camps, in what became known as The Trail of Tears.

Their selfless act of kindness was never forgotten, nor the connection between Ireland and Native American Tribes. So, when the Go Fund Me page went live, thousands of Irish were happy to repay a 173-year debt of gratitude.

Of course, if Tillie were alive, she'd have remembered, she'd have asked me "Did you hear about the Navajo President Jonathan Nez? What do you mean you don't know him? You know him surely, sure isn't he…"

* * *

REMAINING on this theme, I was contacted via this paper by Mr Francie Donaghy. Francie had read of my mother's recent death and wanted to pass on his condolences as he'd driven my parents on their wedding day.

I phoned him and learned that although 83 years young, Mr Donaghy possesses a prodigious memory. He remembered the names of my extended family and the roads on which they lived.

Better still, he even remembered the name of the hall in which my parents had their wedding reception 60 years ago. Perhaps his amazing memory is connected to the fact he told me he reads The Irish News every day, from cover to cover.

My thanks to Mr Donaghy and the hundreds of others who contacted me to proffer their condolences. Proving that in this part of the world, there are no strangers, if you don't know someone, you can be sure someone you know will.